In May 1929, a new inmate arrived at Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia.

Eastern State was no ordinary prison.

It was the oldest in America created by the Quakers, who believed that if a lawbreaker

had time to contemplate his crimes, he might become penitent for his misdeeds.

But this new inmate was no ordinary prisoner.

He was the most famous gangster in America. He'd broken every rule of organized crime as it

existed in the 1920s. He was flashy, charismatic, drew attention to himself, flaunted his crimes,

and even dared to gun down his rivals while barely bothering to hide his involvement in their deaths.

He turned a loose collection of gangs into a Chicago empire that owned or controlled breweries, distilleries, speak-easies, gambling houses,

horse and dog tracks, nightclubs, brothels, labor unions, businesses, and much more.

Together, these various legal and illegal enterprises produced an annual revenue in the hundreds of millions of

dollars. As protection and enforcement for the organization, he controlled an army of sluggers,

bombers, and gunmen, numbering between 700 and 1,000 men.

Some were under his direct command, others were available through allied gang leaders.

To keep himself from being arrested or prosecuted, he relied on a complicated connection with City Hall that involved a variety of officials that included alderman,

police officers, detectives, precinct captains, and even the mayor himself.

That prisoner's name was Al Capone, and by May 1929 he was not yet 30 years old, although he looked much older.

Countless plates of pasta and numerous bottles of wine had deposited layers of fat on his body.

But under that fat was rock hard muscle, and in anger, he could inflict brutal punishment.

He stood five feet ten and a half inches tall and weighed two hundred and fifty-five pounds.

He walked with an assertive thrust to his upper body, his shoulders sloping like a bulls,

and his large head sat on a neck so thick it could barely be distinguished from his torso.

...